


powerless

by foolishclown



Series: power and control [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Eventual Fluff, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Insane Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsession, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge Sex, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Wilbur Soot-centric, i do not ship real people, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishclown/pseuds/foolishclown
Summary: “You may be the president, but you have no power here. You can flaunt around in your little suit and act like you are in control, but you aren’t. You’re nothing. Not to me.”Wilbur took his knee off Schlatt’s stomach, putting it on the other side of his hips, now fully straddling the man. A fist just barely missed his cheek as Wilbur snatched his wrists and slammed them behind Schlatt’s head. The fight continued for a few moments before Will became impatient.Schlatt felt the warm liquid drip down his stomach before he had even realized the knife went through.BIG BIG Trigger warning for kidnapping and violence and r3pe/non-con elements. these are their characters and not the real people!!! i absolutely do not ship the real people, just their characters on the smp
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: power and control [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056029
Comments: 271
Kudos: 609





	1. reckoning

**Author's Note:**

> baby’s first fanfic

Wilbur was never a man of much caution. 

He strode through L’Manburg with the same pride as he did when he was president, as if he wasn’t an outlaw with a target on his head. 

That didn’t matter to him, anyway. Not anymore. 

The current ‘president’ was all that mattered. He had wormed his way into his brain, pushing out all reason and normal thoughts, replaced only with  _ Schlatt Schlatt Schlatt.  _

Wilbur could almost smell him. He was close. He knew he was. 

Unfortunately for Schlatt, he wasn’t nearly as keen to Wilbur’s presence. He was sat outside, a good distance from his precious city, smoking a cigarette with his jacket off and tie loosened. 

Everything had been so stressful recently. The threats of revolution rising, Tubbo’s betrayal, the ever growing threat of a certain pig-man weighing on him like a stone dragging him to the bottom of a lake. 

Schlatt inhaled the smoke, feeling himself sink deeper into the ground. He closed his eyes and held it for a moment, before slowly exhaling.

When he opened his eyes, a tall figure was bent down in front of him, smiling at him. 

By pure instinct, Schlatt screamed, jumping and immediately falling back onto the cold grass, his cigarette falling out of his hand and onto his pristine white shirt, ash ruining it. 

“Holy shit, what the f-?” 

Before he could finish, a hand covered his mouth and a knee pressed into his stomach as Wilbur practically straddled him. Schlatt felt the fear shoot through him once again, alarm bells ringing in his head. 

The air blew cold and loud in the moment of silence as Wilbur traced his free hand down Schlatt’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, did I startle you?” Wilbur cooed, his grin giving away the malice behind the words. 

Wilbur removed his hand to see what the false leader had to say, making sure to slide a finger just past his lips agonizingly slow. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Wilbur? Get the hell off me, do you have any idea what you’re doing? I’m the goddamn president.” 

Wilbur had the audacity to laugh at him. The ram-hybrid felt the fear turn into anger, his face heating up. “How is that funny?” Schlatt spat, beginning to struggle against his grip, trying to kick him off. 

“You may be the president, but you have no power here. You can flaunt around in your little suit and act like you are in control, but you aren’t. You’re nothing. Not to me.” 

Wilbur took his knee off Schlatt’s stomach, putting it on the other side of his hips, now fully straddling the man. A fist just barely missed his cheek as Wilbur snatched his wrists and slammed them behind Schlatt’s head. The fight continued for a few moments before Will became impatient. 

Schlatt felt the warm liquid drip down his stomach before he had even realized the knife went through. 

He didn’t even scream, just inhaled sharply and looked up with blown pupils that met a dark, uncaring pool of brown. 

“Wil-Wilbur- Why- I don’t-“ Schlatt slurred out, shock setting in. 

“Do you understand now? You listen to me, baby. This isn’t a game.” He lifted the bloody knife up to Schlatt’s throat, lightly trailing it across, humming in approval. 

When Schlatt stayed quiet, Wilbur smiled, pulling away the knife and slowly standing up. 

“Good boy. Isn’t it easier when you don’t make a fuss?” 

Schlatt wanted to take that knife and mangle the taller man until he was unrecognizable. Wanted to show him how he wasn’t as powerful as he claimed. But his body betrayed him. He opened his mouth to retort back, but all that came out was a small whine. 

Will took it as an agreement, and grabbed Schlatt by his arms, hoisting him up and practicality dragging him as he walked. The nausea and dizziness was making it hard to know where they were, or how much time had passed. Before Schlatt knew, they were in a strange kind of bunker. He was set down onto a cold, stone floor, hearing Wilbur’s muffled and distant voice saying something, but he couldn’t make out what. 

After what felt like an hour, the voice cut through. 

“Are you deaf?” 

Schlatt looked up weakly, his eyes lidded. “N-no, no... I can’t hear ya...” He felt a warm hand on his cheek, a stark and welcome difference from the cold floor. Against his better judgement, he leaned into it, nuzzling his hand. 

“Oh, darling, you look so cute right now. You’re being so good. Just for me, hmm?” Wilbur raised his eyebrows, clearly looking for a response. 

Schlatt paused, nodding weakly, swallowing his pride in favor of his safety.

To his surprise, the hand raked into his cheek, leaving scratches that didn’t quite break the surface of his skin. 

“Use your words, princess. I want to hear you.” Wilburs hand slid from his now red cheek down to his throat, tightening just enough to hurt.

“I- uh- yes, yes, just for you, just for you.” Schlatt tried to smile, his voice strained and cracking from the pressure. 

That seemed to please Wilbur, as the tightness subsided and he once again hummed. Wilbur slowly stood, walking into a separate room and returning with rope. “I hate to do this to you, princess, but I know how you are.” 

Schlatt was lifted off his back, his hands grabbed roughly as he felt the rope begin to wrap around them. Fuck. He was really hoping Will would make the mistake of leaving him free. He knew he was too weak to break out of any bonds right now. 

Once satisfied with his handiwork, Wilbur helped Schlatt to his feet and led him, much more gently this time, to a bed in the other room. It was small and covered in white sheets that looked like they had never been used. Wilbur grabbed something from a drawer in the only other object in the room, a brown dresser, and brought it over. 

A white and grey fluffy blanket was laid over Schlatt, who was halfway laid on the bed. When the warm blanket covered him, he realized how much he was shaking. It was freezing in here. The shock and confusion from the stab wound had completely shut down his sensible brain functions. He felt woozy and vulnerable. Almost like he picked up on this, Wilbur cooed at him like he was some helpless baby and slid his hands under the blanket, running them down Schlatt’s torso. When he reached the stab wound, he traced around it, stopping to look right into lidded and fearful eyes. 

He slowly leaned forward, lips ghosting over lips, and grinned. 

Fingers sharply and without warning slammed into the open wound, as a horror movie scream escaped past Schlatt’s lips, which was quickly muffled as Wilbur closed the gap, drinking in the screams as he wasted no time in exploring the smaller mans mouth. 

A newly restored fight kicked in as Schlatt wiggled under his grasp, which only served to cause more pain as Wilbur roughly grabbed onto his hair and used his other hand to open the wound up further. 

An idea popped into Wilbur’s head, and he moved his hands grip from wavy brown hair to a curved horn, stroking it and pulling. In a pleasant surprise, the screams of agony shifted into a loud and surprised moan, the man underneath him tensing up and shuddering. 

Wilbur smiled into the kiss, removing his blood soaked fingers and slowly pulling away from the others mouth, biting his bottom lip before sitting up. 

“I did not expect that, sweetheart. God, you’re so perfect. You’re so perfect. Look at you, so good for me.” 

Schlatt watched in a mixture of horror anddeliriousness as Wilbur brought his blood covered hand to the shaking mans mouth, forcing his way past his closed lips and feeling around. 

“Suck.” Wilbur commanded.

The shame rushed to both Schlatt’s face and his crotch. The metallic taste filled his senses as he felt himself instinctively suck on the fingers, the feeling violating. 

God, he wish he wasn’t so hard right now. This shouldn’t be turning him on. This is terrible. This is torture. This is his enemy.

So why did he never want this to stop? 


	2. the day of worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for extremely dubious consent/borderline rape in this chapter, it’s mostly just smut 
> 
> also tw for blood used as lube and more graphic violence

  
Wilbur removed his fingers, dragging them across Schlatt’s bottom lip as a mixture of blood and spit trailed out with them. 

Wilbur’s breath hitched, a low groan escaping him as he examined the flushed and delirious man underneath him. His bright red and bruised lips were covered in his own blood and spit, his eyes heavy and filled with fear, but there was something else behind them. The slight bucking of hips so small it was almost unnoticeable, the way he leaned up when Wilbur removed his fingers, how he shook more and more every time Wilbur got closer. It wasn’t just fear there. 

Quiet laughter echoed in the nearly empty room, bouncing off the walls.

“Oh, sweetheart, you like this, don’t you? You like being forced down like this? You like tasting your own blood, feeling me on top of you? Your mortal enemy bringing you to- hah, well, not even just your knees.” 

Schlatt stared up, his body heating up despite the cold. He wanted to deny it, wanted to spit in the bastards eye and tell him he was a good for nothing piece of shit, that he would have him arrested. Schlatt was the president, he was supposed to have honor, power, control over his city and the people. And yet, the worst of them all, his political rival and mortal enemy had him like this. Unable to breathe, flustered, delirious and drunk on the way his body felt pressed on him, Wilburs work worn calloused hands holding down his shaking body. 

Schlatt took a heavy breath. “Please.” 

Wilbur raised a cocky eyebrow. “Please? That doesn’t answer the question, baby boy. Answer me correctly.” 

A long, heavy pause. Wilbur’s hot breath against his neck. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

Schlatt put his lips together and furrowed his brow. He started to struggle again, testing the waters. Wilbur’s grip was as tight as ever, and when he felt Schlatt attempt to wriggle free, he hissed and pushed down on the smaller mans crotch with his knee, hard. He moved his hand to ghost over the wound at the same time, a clear warning. The immediate gasp that escaped Schlatt sent blood straight to Wilbur’s dick, serving to further inflate his crazed ego.

“Y-yes, yes, I love it, so much- please- fuck, Will, please touch me, please fucking touch me, I’ll do anything, literally anything, please, fuck.” 

Wilbur grinned like he just caught his dinner. 

As soon as Schlatt finished his babbling, Wilbur began to unbutton the ash stained white shirt. When he became frustrated, fumbling with the small buttons, he pulled out the knife and cut it off, slamming back onto Schlatt’s lips and feverishly kissing him. The immediate bucking of the ram-hybrid up into him made him feel unhinged. Fuck, he wants to ruin him. The shaking body underneath him, hands still tied, felt like his only purpose. This is all that matters. He’s all that matters forever. 

Schlatt let out a moan into the brunettes mouth, and was extremely disappointed and left feeling emptier than he had ever felt when Wilbur pulled away. 

“Fuck, you sound so pretty, so pretty because of me, baby boy. So good, so good.” He continued to whisper nonsensical praise as he unbuttoned Schlatts black pants, sliding them down with a struggle.

He was so fucking beautiful. Of course he was, he was perfect. He was perfect and he belonged to him, only to him. The large stab wound in his stomach was only the beginning. He wanted to mark him up, scar every inch of his beautiful body to let everyone know who he belonged to. 

Wilbur had sat for months, for months and months thinking about Schlatt. Only Schlatt. How much he hated him, how much he needed him. Every waking hour he yearned, and every waking hour he felt his self control grow weaker. 

The product of those months lay beneath him. Schlatt, fully naked, blood covering him, begging for him to fuck him. 

It was worth every second of agony. 

Wilbur dipped down to Schlatts neck, roughly marking him up, leaving dark hickeys and bite marks all over, slowly trailing down his torso. 

“W-Will- ah, _fuck_ \- Will, please, please untie me, need to touch you- _fuck!_ \- need to, please!” 

How could he say no to that? 

The rope was promptly cut in half with the still blood covered knife, sliding off his hands easily. Without missing a beat, Schlatt ran his hands through Wills hair, tangling his fingers through and bucking up again. 

Wilbur went back to his work, resuming right below his nipples, Schlatt tugging harshly and whining whenever he would bite a sensitive spot. The president felt embarrassed by how he was acting, but the fog of the pain and desperate need covered those thoughts. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wilbur reached his crotch. He slid one of his hands down to slowly trace Schlatts painfully hard dick. When he lightly bumped it, the smaller man inhaled so sharply he almost whistled. “Fuck,” Wilbur whispered, realizing something slowly. 

“Sweetheart?” Frantic eyes met his. “Have you... done this before, hmm?” 

Schlatts face flushed even more. Shit. Fuck. This is embarrassing. Beyond embarrassing. 

“...Not really.” His voice was barely audible. 

Wilbur felt the tent in his pants become harder to ignore. “Oh, princess... you’re... you’re fucking perfect, do you know that?” He spoke against Schlatts erection, hot breath dangerously close. 

It was too much for Wilbur, this was too much. Too perfect. He was absolutely coming undone. 

Schlatt wanted to hide his face, the fog lifting enough for the shame to hit him. Before he could express it, Wilbur suddenly put his mouth on him. Without warning, Schlatt bucked up into the warmth, exclaiming loudly. 

Realizing his mistake, he began to panic, knowing he must have gagged Wilbur. If he did, Wilbur did not show it. He took him all the way to the bottom and moaned around his dick, a sensation that nothing could have prepared Schlatt for. 

Will started bobbing up and down, occasionally stopping to breathe, but began a steady pace, sending Schlatt to his limit far too quickly. 

“Will- FUCK!- fuck, please, I’m gonna cum, please, fuck!” 

Wilbur came all the way off with a pop, looking up very seriously. “Don’t you dare. You don’t cum until I say you can.” 

“But, I-“ 

“Don’t fucking argue with me, princess. Do you have any idea what I will do to you if you keep this up?” 

Schlatts eyes met with the gaping hole in his stomach, his breath hitching. 

“Yes, of course, I won’t... I won’t argue, I promise. I’ll- I’ll wait until you say.” 

The hand that gently pet his hair, sliding up his horns in praise sent chills through his body. Wilbur backed away, beginning to undress himself. Schlatt realized, in slight horror, that he was about to be fucked. It was actually happening. Wilbur Soot was going to fuck him. This cannot be real. Why did he want this so bad? He felt like if this didn’t happen, he would have no purpose. _All that matters is Wilbur._

Before he could rationalize the situation, he slipped out of his trance to see Wilbur sitting over him, expectantly. He was about to ask what he wanted when he realized. 

Wilbur had his hand over his wound again. 

“If you’re good, this won’t hurt as bad, baby boy. Be good for me.” 

The hand reached in, stretching the wound again, fresh blood once again pooling out. Schlatts screams were frantic, but he didn’t dare move to stop Wilbur. Once a significant amount of blood covered his fingers, he pulled his hand out. 

Schlatt expectantly opened his mouth, but Wilbur slid down. He watched in confusion as Will made eye contact. 

A sharp, unfamiliar and amazing pain hit him as he felt a cold finger enter him. A high pitched yelp escaped him, Wilbur’s cheshire grin sending a wave of pleasure and fear through him. 

Just when he thought it was all too much to handle, that it couldn’t get worse, Wilbur started to move his finger. 

_“FUCK!”_

He never knew it would feel like this. It was unexplainable, there was no words to put to this. It felt like everything at once was happening to him. He felt himself begin to black out, his eyelids drooping. 

Right when he was about to give in to the darkness, a second finger entered. 

The screams that followed the next five minutes were uncontrollable. 

Wilbur whispered sweet things and praise as the ram-hybrid shook, tears coming out and hips bucking for desperate friction. 

When he finished with the fourth one, he pulled out quickly, admiring the smaller man once again. 

“Such a good boy, _my_ good boy... so pretty, so obedient.” He whispered as he once again dipped his fingers in the blood, barely audible over the scream his sweetheart made as he once again entered the wound. 

He brought the blood to his own dick, putting a generous amount on before grabbing Schlatts hips, leaving bloody hand prints as he gripped tightly.

“Are you ready?” 

Words failed Schlatt. He was seeing double, his vision cloudy. His body felt like static, his mouth felt like cotton. He couldn’t even nod his head. 

Wilbur took it as a yes. 

He slowly slid himself in, trying to let Schlatt adjust as much as he could. As soon as he started moving, Schlatt visibly tensed and let out a long whine. 

Wilbur slowly, slowly kept sliding in, the beautiful noises his boy made was making it very hard to be patient. By the time he was halfway in, Schlatt was babbling again, saying his name over and over like a prayer. 

Once all the way in, he paused, leaning down to meet his lips again, a slower, deeper kiss than before. This man was everything to him. There was nothing else besides him. He was the world and everything in it. He was more than that. 

Still kissing him, he started to move, slowly bucking his hips. The moans Schlatt let out vibrated in his mouth, his hands grabbing Wilbur’s hair in desperation for anything to ground him. He felt like he was slipping away, like if he didn’t hold onto Will he would fade into nothing. 

As Wilbur picked up speed, he felt himself completely lose it. He started a grueling pace, ignoring the cries and pained whines as he moved away from Schlatts mouth to stare at his fucked out face. 

Schlatt was beginning to think he was never really alive until today, like before now he was a ghost among the living. But right now, he was beyond that. He felt like he had found God. He wanted to worship him forever, forever and ever and ever and never let go. 

Wilbur began to stroke Schlatt, his thrusts becoming more needy and sloppy. Deep and fast, moaning almost as loudly as the man under him. 

“Will- fuck, I’m gonna, gonna, mmmf- fuck fuck FUCK!” Wilbur hit directly onto his prostate, Schlatts mouth falling open as he gripped Wilbur’s hair so hard he tore out some. 

Something extremely primal in Wilbur was let loose as he mercilessly thrust into Schlatt, placing a hand on his throat and squeezing while the other hand jacked him off. 

Schlatt shook so hard as he came his body spasmed. His vision completely went and he felt himself slip into that nothingness, everything in him shattering and fixing itself at the same time. Nothing has ever felt like this. He has never wanted anything like this before. He needed to stay in Wilbur’s grasp forever. He felt Wilbur speed up as Schlatt came, somehow becoming rougher as he left bruises and blood stains all over the smaller mans weak body.

The sheer overstimulation made Schlatt begin to choke out sobs, but Will just pressed his hand around his throat tighter, the sobs becoming strangled and Schlatt held onto Wills wrist like an anchor. 

Will placed his mouth on Schlatts shoulder, biting into it as hard as he physically could, jerking his hips and slamming all the way into him as he came with a mix of a scream and a moan. 

The black faded from Schlatts vision enough for him to see Will slide out, letting the rest of his cum drip out. 

Schlatt tried to speak, tried to move. He felt himself slipping, but this time it felt real. He was dying. He couldn’t breathe, despite Wilbur removing his hand. He tried to signal for help, weakly grabbing at his captor. Will didn’t seem to understand, but studied his face, slowly realizing something was wrong. He stood up quickly, and Schlatt watched him leave as high pitched ringing filled his ears.

When Wilbur returned with medical supplies and some strange liquid that he forced down his mouth, the cotton spread from his mouth to his brain, everything becoming fuzzier. He laughed like a maniac as Wilbur began to clean his wound, the stinging a distant memory to him, like he was watching from the future. 

“That’s funnnny, y’know... ‘s funny, ‘s weird... feels weird... I- you... you’re... you’re God, d’yknow that...?” He rambled, his words barely coming out fully formed. He felt so hot, he wondered when Will turned on the heat. 

Something in Wilbur’s eyes light up at what he said. It reminded him of the spark of TNT before it blew up. 

There was dangerous truth behind his slurred words. 

“You’re such a good baby, Schlatt. You’re so good. You’re so perfect. Just keep breathing, I’m almost done. You’re going to be just fine, as long as you’re with me.” 

Schlatt fully believed him. Will would never lie, anyway. Everything felt so nice right now, he hoped Will felt the same way. A smile spread across his face, but it didn’t feel like he did it, it felt like he was being controlled by some outside force. He moved his hand to Will, cupping his face. 

Out of his control, his mouth opened, the cotton numbing his lips. 

“I will never leave you.” 

The darkness finally consumed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo it wasn’t two days before i updated it was like two hours


	3. the world closing in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur felt an anxiety build inside him. He couldn’t let Schlatt get worse, he had to keep him safe. After all, he was his responsibility now. He had to look after him, make him better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no explicit smut or anything but same tw for kidnapping and all that and a new big big tw for non consensual drug use !

The fuzzy darkness enveloped him, an uncomfortable warm. He knew that if he didn’t leave it now, he never would. Schlatt could feel someone next to him. He felt a warm body pressed up against him, a sharp pain in his stomach. But the comfort of fading away tugged at him, begging for him to give in. 

He opened his eyes. 

Wilbur was facing him, one arm wrapped around him, the other propping him up. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and deep. 

Schlatt wondered how he got here. If he was being honest, he didn’t fully remember. His mouth was dry, his head was pounding. But looking at Wilbur, it soothed the rising panic within him. 

He tried to shift a little, to move his legs, and as soon as he did, the sharp pain in his stomach hit him like a ton of bricks. He let out a yelp, shoving his head into the crook of Wilburs neck. The taller man stirred, his hand running through Schlatts hair. “W... what’s wrong?” His voice was deep and hoarse, cracking as he spoke. 

Schlatt blinked the tears out of his eyes. “It’s just... mmm, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he tried to shove himself further into Wilbur, “‘m okay.” 

Wilbur made a noise, turning his head towards Schlatts exposed neck, gently nipping at him, running his teeth over the dark hickies. “Good boy,” he breathed into his ear, causing a shiver. “You’re okay. Doing so good.” 

Schlatt felt himself heat up at the praise, pushing down the thoughts in the back screaming at him to run away. Wilbur ran his hand down the smaller mans chest, stopping over the wound again. He lightly brushed against it, causing Schlatt to tense up and grab onto Wilbur. “P-please don’t.” He hoarsely whispered, the feeling of it rushing back to him. 

Wilbur hummed, shaking his head lightly. “Of course not, baby boy. I was just checking on it. I stitched you up last night, remember?” Schlatt did not remember. Not at all. 

He tried to think back, to fill in the gaps, but all he could remember was black. Black, warmth, something dripping, cotton for brains, someone hands all over him, the word spinning. 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

Wilbur seemed satisfied with that answer. He slid back into the crook of Schlatts neck, exploring to see which spot made him moan the prettiest. The body heat combined with the huge blanket kept Schlatt warm, but something inside him was freezing. He was still shaking, still dizzy. But every time Will touched him, it went away, just for a moment. As long as he was holding him. 

After a while, Will decided they needed to get up. He explained that this was a secret building he had made underground, a long time ago, just for Schlatt. 

Just for him. 

Wilbur returned with clothes, a too big sweater and too long pants. Schlatt put them on anyway, thanking Wilbur over and over. Wilbur smiled, admiring Schlatt. His Schlatt. His boy. 

After a brief tour of the very small ‘house’, Wilbur noticed something. Every time he took a step, Schlatt wobbled, his legs threatening to give out. His gaze was unfocused and confused. He barely gave any verbal responses, clinging onto Wilbur or walls. Wilbur couldn’t have that, he had to make him better. 

“Baby boy, are you okay? Tell me what’s going on, use your words.” Those unfocused eyes met his, his skin pale. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. ‘m fine, just a little tired. I’m...” He seemed to lose his train of thought, squinting and staring into nothing. “I’m okay.” 

Wilbur felt an anxiety build inside him. He couldn’t let Schlatt get worse, he had to keep him safe. After all, he was his responsibility now. He had to look after him, make him better. Wilbur grabbed his shaky arm, leading him back into the bedroom, Schlatt nearly collapsing on the way there.

Once on the bed, Schlatt curled up into a ball, wincing when he moved his stomach. “You need to rest, sweetheart.” Wilbur leaned over him, frowning. 

“No... no, I don’t- I’m not sleepy.” Schlatt argued weakly, his voice an absolute shell of how the commanding President used to sound. 

Wilbur stood back up, once again walking away. Schlatt couldn’t help but wonder where he kept all this stuff. He didn’t see any of it in the rooms he was shown. 

The blurry figure returned, holding a bottle of something. Schlatt looked up in confusion, trying to make out what it was. Wilbur twisted off the cap, sitting over the smaller man. “Open your mouth, baby.” 

“What...?” 

“Open your mouth. _Now_.” 

Not giving him time to finish, Wilbur put the bottle in his half opened mouth, thick liquid pouring out of it and down his throat. It tasted terrible, tasted worse than anything Schlatt had ever had. He squirmed, wanting to spit it out, but Wilbur kept his jaw open with his free hand, holding him down with his legs. 

“You’re doing so good, princess. Swallow it now, you’re almost there.” The bottle was nearly empty by the time Wilbur pulled back, screwing the lid back on. Schlatt sputtered, but had already swallowed it all. His resolve strengthened for a moment, vision and brain focusing enough to form coherent thoughts.

“What the fuck are you doing? Why am I here, why are you doing this to me? What was in there?” Schlatt demanded, putting on his best leader voice. 

This clearly amused his captor, a grin spreading across his face. “I thought you were over this part, baby. You were doing so good,” his voice turned low and serious, “I’m not going to hurt you. I never would. This is all to make you better, to make you feel good.” 

The liquid trickled down, he could feel it going down his throat. It felt violating. His vision started to unfocus again, Wilbur becoming fuzzy and unclear. His chest felt warm, his heart felt slow. His breathing became labored, everything moving in slow motion. “Y-you,” he struggled to gather his words, “You’re... hurting me... right now, why- why- don’t you see that...?” 

The room started closing in on itself. Schlatt could have sworn he was floating. His hands became numb, his body disconnected from itself. All he could feel was Wilburs presence looming over him, a hand running along his aching chest. 

“You don’t understand, darling. You don’t have to. That’s not your job. It’s my job to make everything better, and I am. You’ll know that soon enough. I bet you’re starting to feel good now, hmm?” 

He felt the farthest thing from good. The cotton came back, the ache and the cold inside him grew. Wilbur felt so warm over him, it was like a furnace. The room was shifting, turning upside down. He weakly reached out a hand to try to grab at Wil, to see if he was still there. He was met with a burning hot hand. Schlatt blinked slowly, lips parting as he tried to figure out what to say. 

He wanted to scream for help, to beg Wilbur to help him. He must have been dying, Wilbur needed to help him. He promised he would, he fucking promised. 

_He is helping you._

He felt the thought creep up on him. Schlatt knew that wasn’t his voice. He wasn’t saying that. Then why did he believe it? 

Everything became too much. The moments blended together like flashing pictures. His grip on reality slipped away from him, everything becoming shapes and colors. All he could make out was Wilbur. Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur. That was all he had. That was all he needed. 

Wilbur placed small kisses all over Schlatt, letting him know he was here. Schlatt whined, the sensation confusing. All he felt was numbness, ringing in his ears filling his head, his world collapsing in on him. But there Wilbur was, telling him he was okay. Kissing him, petting him. 

That was all he needed. Wilbur was right. He did feel good. 

He had never felt so good in his life.


	4. prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dream world was just as unkind to Schlatt as the real one. He was falling endlessly, flailing his arms desperately to try and slow himself. Just when he thought he must be about to hit the ground, he heard a distant voice. He snapped his head in the direction of it, his surroundings morphing into a familiar area right outside of Manberg. 
> 
> Schlatt hit the ground with a loud thud, his knees dully aching as he stood. The voice seemed to surround him, swirling in one ear and out the other, the forest shifting and changing every passing second. Smoky, strangely acidic air filled his lungs, burning him from the inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always TW for dubious consent/kidnapping and violence! also tw for a mention of sexual assault on an unconscious person

The dream world was just as unkind to Schlatt as the real one. He was falling endlessly, flailing his arms desperately to try and slow himself. Just when he thought he must be about to hit the ground, he heard a distant voice. He snapped his head in the direction of it, his surroundings morphing into a familiar area right outside of Manberg. 

Schlatt hit the ground with a loud thud, his knees dully aching as he stood. The voice seemed to surround him, swirling in one ear and out the other, the forest shifting and changing every passing second. Smoky, strangely acidic air filled his lungs, burning him from the inside out. 

A figure weaved in and out of existence, stepping closer as he flickered like a light about to go out. 

The smoke was visible now, thick and grey, shrouding his vision and obscuring the shape shifting forest that surrounded him. 

“Schlatt?” The figure was suddenly up on him, right in his face. The smell of lavender mixed with the smoke, a strange, but not unpleasant combination. 

It was Wilbur, of course. Schlatt probably couldn’t summon another person if he tried. But something was very wrong with him. His features flickered in and out of existence, changing like he couldn’t decide who to be. The yellow sweater he was wearing was covered in blood, quickly morphing into a blue military outfit, then back to his usual trench-coat. 

Schlatt didn’t respond. He stared ahead, fear a distantly present thought in his mind. Wilbur was holding a sword, but it wasn’t his. Blood dripped from it, spilling onto the green grass before shifting into nothing but a handwritten note, ink dripping from the pages onto the same spot. The sight was disorienting, nothing stayed the same for more than a second at a time, Wilbur’s facial features twisting painfully as his emotions changed so quickly. 

There was one constant though: his eyes stayed on Schlatt. They never changed, never glanced away. 

“Am I a bad person, Schlatt?” 

The question lingered in the air as the world shook. 

There was no easy way to answer that. Was Wilbur, a dad, a son, a friend, an enemy, a human being a bad person? 

Schlatt had no idea. 

The silence didn’t seem to surprise Wilbur. His form stilled, landing on the trench-coat and sword, a sad expression on his pale, scar riddled face. 

It was no surprise when the sword ran Schlatt clean through, entering through his chest. Wilbur held it in, letting Schlatt fall forward into his arms. A sense of peace fell over the forest, but the smoke grew thicker, turning black. 

Schlatt felt his body begin to shut down, limbs going numb. He wondered what happened when you died in a dream, he always woke up before he was able to see. Maybe this time he wouldn’t. 

A sense of deep content shone in Wilbur’s eyes. Schlatt somehow understood. This was what had to happen.

It was meant to be. 

A warm hand gripped his freezing cold one, shaking him. He opened his eyes, inhaling in sharply. Wilbur was sat right beside him, alarmingly dark circles under his eyes. “Baby, are you okay? You were crying.” 

Sure enough, tears were falling from his eyes, leaving wet trails down his face. 

He knew he wasn’t crying for himself. 

“Y-yeah,” his own voice surprised him, weak and pathetic, “just had a... bad dream.” 

Wilbur nodded slowly, his hand running through Schlatt’s hair. “As long as you’re okay.” 

It dawned on Schlatt that Wilbur must have stayed awake the entire time to watch him. How long had he been asleep, anyway? He had no measure of time, no window or clock to tell him. 

The idea of Wilbur sitting there, staring at him while he slept for hours put him on edge. ‘On edge’ was an understatement. He felt sick to his stomach. 

Speak of the devil, a sharp pain in his stomach alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t eaten in two days now. (Had it been two days...?) 

“Wil- I, uh... do you have any... I mean, is there any chance I could have some food?” Even a request as simple as this made his heart race. He felt like he was tiptoeing a very dangerous line anytime he expressed any sort of thought independent of what Wilbur said. 

Wilbur smiled slightly, cupping his cheek. “Of course. But, first you need to clean up, sweetheart. You need to shower and to shave.” 

Schlatt didn’t quite expect that second one. He suddenly felt deeply defensive. “What? I don’t need to shave. I mean, it’s not like it’s long or anything.” Wilbur was clearly disappointed with that answer, his smile vanishing. 

“It’ll feel better, I promise. Come on.” As Schlatt was lifted up off the bed, he realized he didn’t have on any pants, which meant Wilbur had taken them off while he was asleep. 

  
Wilbur...he... he didn’t, did he? He wouldn’t have done that while he was asleep, surely. 

His throat suddenly felt way too tight, he couldn’t get enough air. He pushed the feeling down, ignoring the logic in him that argued Wilbur would have no problem doing that after what he’s done to him while awake. 

The bathroom was small, but long. The shower and tub were decently sized, definitely big enough to fit two people. The sink was barren. Wilbur ducked underneath to open the cabinet, pulling out shaving tools. Schlatt felt stupid for being so worked up over this, but it was important to him. It felt like a huge part of his identity, and Wilbur was taking that away. 

Well, what else is new? 

Wilbur started applying the shaving cream, occasionally mumbling some sort of praise or compliment, but it felt empty. Schlatt refused to look into the mirror. He didn’t want to see his reflection. He couldn’t stand it. 

Wilbur had one of those old-fashioned straight razors, a steel one that looked brand new. He raised it up to Schlatt’s face, pausing when Schlatt instinctively jerked away. 

“That’s a great way to get your face cut open, baby. Stay still.” It wasn’t a request, that much was clear. Schlatt gripped the sink, holding on like his life depended on it. 

Wilbur started slowly, being remarkably gentle with him. Schlatt still couldn’t look at himself, especially now that he was losing the one thing that made him feel any sort of control or power. He felt like a child being punished. 

It was almost over. Wilbur was close to being done. It was too late to stop him, but everything in Schlatt told him to thrash and bite, kick and scream until he escaped. How would he even leave? There were no visible exits, and Wilbur was fucking insane. If he did leave, he would be found within an hour, hunted down and dragged back. 

Schlatt recalled the events of... well, he wasn’t sure if it was last night. How Wilbur forced the thick liquid down his throat, how everything became so fuzzy and terrifying. He still felt the effects of it, objects seeming to move on their own, faces not quite making sense. 

Something in him knew that wouldn’t be the last time that happened. Not by a long shot. 

Water splashing on his face startled him, a cold rag washing off the rest of the shaving cream. Wilbur smiled at him, running a hand down his now bare cheek. “You look so pretty, sweetheart.” 

Schlatt could tell he meant it. He flicked his eyes up to the mirror. His stomach dropped. He looked... nothing like himself. He looked sick, his eyes droopy and his face sunken in. Dark circles clung to his bloodshot eyes. Without the beard, he looked like a kid again. He definitely felt the part right now. 

Wilbur turned the shower on, pulling the curtain to. He walked up behind Schlatt, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling off the last article of clothing that he had to protect himself. Only in Wilbur’s hands did he recognize the sweater. It was the same yellow sweater he saw in his dream. 

The smell of lavender wafted off the shirt. 

Wilbur took of his clothes, pulling some bathing supplies out of the same cabinet and placing them in the shower. He motioned for Schlatt to get in, stepping in before him. Longing to feel any bit cleaner than he did, blood and cum still stuck on him, he stepped in. He had forgotten about his stab wound until that moment. The burning sensation made his knees buckle, Wilbur grabbing him just in time. The water poured down, flattening his hair as he shut his eyes tight for a moment, swallowing the pain. Even with the stitches, it felt like it was splitting open. 

It was okay. He was okay. Wilbur was holding him, apologizing and rubbing his arm as he held him up. Wilbur was always there. He would be okay, as long as Wilbur was there. 

Suddenly, hands were lathering shampoo through his hair, satisfying a need he didn’t know he had. It felt so good, the hot water and kind touches making him melt. He could almost forget his terrifying situation, forget he was trapped underground with a man who has completely lost it. 

Wilbur moved him back towards the water, tilting his head back gently and rinsing his hair. Grabbing a wash cloth, he put some soap on it and started to scrub off the worst stains, the ones that water alone didn’t get rid of. 

Schlatt knew that he could scrub forever and never be clean. It didn’t matter how many showers he took, the stain would stay hidden underneath. 

Wilbur cleaned himself with much less care, washing his dark hair and half heartedly cleaning his body. With a slight sinking feeling, Schlatt watched as Wilbur applied more soap, bringing the washcloth lower to wash the shorter man’s dick. He was just as gentle about it, nothing inherently sexual in the actions, just trying to clean him up. Schlatt was turned around, Wilbur moving to wash his ass. Okay, that one felt a little more sexual. 

Wilbur hit more than one bruise during it, but Schlatt didn’t mind too much. He was being sweet, dragging his fingers lightly and scratching into spots that Schlatt didn’t know itched all along his back. 

All good things must come to an end though, as they say. Wilbur snaked his hand around Schlatt’s torso, lightly stroking his dick, a whimper falling from him in response. He was torn between wanting Wilbur to bend him over and fuck him senseless and cutting his hand off so he could never touch him again. 

He was leaning more towards the first one. 

Wilbur turned Schlatt towards him, taking him into his mouth without pause. Schlatt covered his mouth, the unexpected warmth sending a shiver up his spine. 

Wilbur bobbed up and down, looking up at Schlatt with eyes that showed true adoration. He took him all the way in, choking sounds slightly covered up by the shower. Despite clearly being the one who topped, Wilbur enjoyed nothing more than pleasing Schlatt on his knees. He loved being able to hear him, knowing he caused those with just his mouth. But bending over a man with so much power and control and ruining him was bit more gratifying. 

So he did just that, removing Schlatt from his mouth and pushing him up against the shower wall, pulling his hands behind his back and holding them there as tight as he could. Wilbur had no patience and not nearly enough hot water left to prep him. Besides, Schlatt had been prepped _rather_ recently. 

He pushed in, Schlatt’s screams as beautiful as ever. He moved slowly, pressing himself flat against his sweetheart, biting into his shoulder, the loud whimper exactly what he wanted to hear. Wilbur started a harsh pace, leaving dark bruises on the tan wrists as he held them in place. 

Schlatt felt stranger than usual. He felt disconnected, despite not being drugged like before. His wound burned against the wall as it was slammed into it, likely knocking some stitches loose. In his peripheral, something about Wilbur wasn’t right. There was a familiar smell of smoke, a burning sensation in his lungs. Schlatt elected to close his eyes, to ignore it all. It wasn’t happening if he couldn’t see it, right? 

Wilbur slammed into him, thrusting through his orgasm as he came in the shorter man. 

He pulled out after a moment, grabbing the rag for a second time and cleaning up the new mess he caused. 

The shower was turned off and Schlatt was given a towel. He went through the motions without thinking, recognizing that Wilbur was speaking to him but unable to comprehend the words. He was given another sweater, a black one this time, a fresh pair of underwear and jeans with quite a bit of wear on them. After getting dressed, he felt Wilbur lead him into a room that vaguely resembled a kitchen. It had a stove, a small fridge, a few cabinets and an oven. There was no paint on the walls, and the cold wooden floor creaked as they walked. 

Schlatt realized how pathetically weak he felt. The lack of food and water combined with the rough treatment was seriously harming him. All Wilbur wanted was to protect him, but all he did was doing was hurting him. 

He was given a small piece of bread (was that a baguette?), an apple, and a glass of water. His stomach wanted to argue that this wasn’t nearly enough, but his logic said to keep that to himself. 

Wilbur watched as Schlatt took a cautious seat at the small wooden table, staring intently as he ate. Wilbur just stood, leaning on the counter as he watched. Schlatt felt uneasy, dropping the bread a few times as his hands shook with nervous energy.

“You look so beautiful like that, you know. Clean shaven suits you.”

Schlatt bit into his tongue, startling himself. He looked up at Wilbur’s unbreakable gaze, anger and shame coursing through him. “I didn’t... I...” He weighed his options, his voice lowering. “Thank you.” 

When he finished eating, Wilbur smiled in approval and threw the apple core into a small bag. Schlatt wondered how on earth Wilbur functioned. He hadn’t seen him eat or drink a single thing this whole time and yet he showed no signs of even slight fatigue. Something crossed his mind. 

“Wil?” A pleasant hum in response. “How long was I asleep earlier?” 

“Oh, just about 14 hours.” 

Schlatt felt his eyes widen. Wilbur... stayed awake for 14 hours... just to watch him. Doing nothing else. Sitting beside him and waiting. Likely using him when he got bored. 

He was going to die here. He had to leave. He had to get the hell out. 

Scanning the area, he noticed the only sign of a possible exit was a door that Wilbur hadn’t shown him. It was at the far end of the building and seemed out of place. It must be the way out. He just had to get to it. Wilbur turned away to put away the empty glass, his back now to both Schlatt and the door. 

He had never ran so fast in his life. He turned the knob, shocked to find it unlocked. Wooden stairs greeted him on the other side of the door, leading straight up. Taking them three steps at a time, he reached the top at the same time Wilbur reached the door. 

A door stood in his way at the top. He tugged on the handle, mentally begging for it to open, never wanting something so bad in his life until then. 

It was locked. 

He was dragged down the stairs by his foot, chin hitting the hard wood and splitting open. Wilbur dragged him up by his hair once he reached the bottom, securing his arms behind him with his other hand and dragging him into a room he had never been in. There was nothing in the room except a chair and a box. Wilbur threw Schlatt go the ground, snatching something out of the box and wrapping it around his hands. Rope, Schlatt assumed, the harsh material cutting into his already bruised wrists. 

Wilbur wasn’t bothered by the kicks that Schlatt tried to land on him, tying the rope as tight as he could. Rage blinded him, his vision blurry. He couldn’t fucking believe this. He did everything to make him feel better, to make him comfortable, and he tried to escape. It didn’t matter now. He knew now to be more careful. As far as he was concerned, Schlatt was never leaving his grasp again.

Wilbur stood, looming over the bound man. He said nothing, striding out of the lightless room. The door slammed behind him, a lock turning.

The darkness consumed him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a long time and im super unhappy with the result but hhhhfk what can you do. comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!! thank u so much for reading:)


	5. sinking man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been two days since he had last seen Schlatt. It might have hurt Wilbur more than it hurt Schlatt, if he was being honest. He longed to touch him, to hold his shaking hands, to kiss him and hear his beautiful voice say his name. But he knew that he had to make him learn him lesson. He had to know his place. Wilbur couldn’t be kind to him. 
> 
> He took a step into the outside world, breathing in fresh air for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again tw for kidnapping/abuse/non consensual drug use! 
> 
> thank u for reading and i hope you enjoy  
> :-)

The house was eerily silent, cold and empty. Wilbur held a small bottle filled with dark brown liquid. He put it aside, knowing it wasn’t time. 

It had been two days since he had last seen Schlatt. 

It probably hurt Wilbur more than it hurt Schlatt, if he was being honest. He longed to touch him, to hold his shaking hands, to kiss him and hear his beautiful voice say his name. But he knew that he had to make him learn him lesson. He had to know his place. Wilbur couldn’t be kind to him. 

He took a step into the outside world, breathing in fresh air for the first time in days. He shut and locked the door behind him, covering it with the vines that kept anyone from finding it. He was on Pogtopia land, of course, far away from L’Manburg. Making his way towards civilization, a nearby sound of leaves crunching made him pause. 

Tommy was just ahead, back turned and walking in the same direction Wilbur was heading. He hadn’t talked to Tommy in... weeks, honestly. Maybe even months. Curiosity got the better of him as he strode forward, catching up quickly.

He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the younger boy whipping around and screaming, eyes wide. 

“WILBUR? What the FUCK?” 

A slightly smug smile spread across his face. “Hi, Tommy.” 

“Holy- holy fuck, Wilbur, you scared the absolute shit out of me! What are you doing here?” 

“Just exploring. I’d ask the same of you.” 

Tommy frowned a little. “I was just... heading back home. You know, you’ve been gone for... a long time, Wilbur. We thought something might have happened.” 

Wilbur did not expect that. They were.. worried about him?

“I’ve just been... busy, Tommy. That’s all.”

Tommy shifted awkwardly, silent. 

“You know, uh, Schlatt is missing. Or, well, I wouldn’t really say missing,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair, “just gone. Everyone figures he probably just got fed up and finally left, probably drunk. Bet you anything he’ll be back though, just in time to fuck shit up again. Quackity has taken his position, of course.” 

Something in Wilbur set fire at the way Tommy talked about Schlatt. His eye twitched. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” His voice betrayed him, anger leaking through. 

Tommy laughed again, a lot more nervously this time. “Uh... yeah. So, uh. Are you... coming home, Will?”

The fire sizzled out.

“I...” 

They stood in silence, Wilbur darting his eyes to the ground. Did Tommy...  want  him home? 

His thoughts shifted to Schlatt. Alone, tied up in a dark room, no food or water, curled into himself on the floor, his pretty hair falling in his face. 

“No.” 

Wilbur turned around, completely abandoning his plans to get more supplies, body on autopilot as he stepped through the forest. Tommy didn’t say a word, his face devoid of emotion, his eyes never moving from Wilbur. 

Once Wilbur was out of his sight, Tommy let out a shameless sob, a flood of emotions rushing out that he’d been ignoring for so long. He just wanted his brother back. What could he possibly be doing that was so important he would leave his family? 

Vines were shoved aside, the door was opened, slamming behind Wilbur. He felt the fire light inside him again, burning his insides, smoke rising in his throat. 

The floor shook under him, taking every ounce of self control in him not to snap right then. A sudden darkness filled the building, all the lights flickering and sizzling out as his heart turned itself inside out in chest. 

Schlatt felt danger approaching him before he even heard the door open. He gazed up, the first time he had seen anything other than pitch black in what seemed like forever. Wilbur was stood in the doorway, jacket off, holding objects that Schlatt couldn’t make out in the darkness. 

A candle was lit, the light impossibly bright from such a small source. Wilbur placed it on the ground, his eyes shining with an emotion Schlatt didn’t quite understand. 

It was too much for Wilbur. He didn’t want to think about his family, didn’t want to think about anyone. 

He didn’t want to feel _anything_. It had been so long since he felt this much, so, so long. The only feeling he knew how to handle was the way Schlatt effected him. It was the only feeling he understood anymore. 

Schlatt felt a fist connect with his cheek, pushing him over. Wilbur’s boot nailed him right in the ribs, eliciting a yelp. The hits were passionate, anger released in each one. A few more kicks to the stomach later, Wilbur knelt down next to him.

The bottle was brought to his lips. Schlatt knew it was coming, but he still fought back, trying to back away, a hand easily stilling him by wrapping around his neck.

No words were said as the liquid was poured down his throat. He stared ahead  to see the bottle completely empty when Wilbur pulled back. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. It was bad enough before, he could barely fuckin’ handle it _then_. 

“Wilbur,” he tried, his voice low and hoarse from not speaking. 

Wilbur clearly didn’t care at the moment. He began to pull off Schlatt’s pants, annoyed to realize he had to untie him to get the sweater off. 

Settling for just his bare legs for now, Wilbur brought a small knife to a shaking thigh, running it across lightly. 

No words were spoken as Schlatt stared into his captor’s dimly lit eyes. 

It became harder to breathe. His felt like he was underwater. It was kicking in so much faster than before. 

The knife dragging across his skin caused him to squirm, blood rising to the surface. Another cut, and another, and another, and another. Wilbur cut deeper each time, growing reckless. Schlatt shut his eyes tight, choked noises spilling out of him. 

A deep, shameful part of him just wished Wilbur would touch him. Not with a knife, not just to drug him, but to actually hold him, to whisper empty praise to him, telling him how pretty and good he was. 

The second thigh was made to match, each cut as deep as Wilbur could go. 

Schlatt felt his consciousness already start to fade, his head swaying. Something felt different this time. 

His hands were untied, sweater ripped off him as Wilbur pressed his face into the hard floor. Something wooden traced over his skin, an unfamiliar sensation. 

“Count.” 

“...what?” 

“Count these, or I start over.” 

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, the slender piece of wood slammed into his back, his eyes going wide in realization. His brain lagged behind his body, the dull pain confusing him for a moment. 

Wilbur hit him a second time, much harder. A small moan escaped him, his hands uselessly grabbing at the ground. 

“Count.” 

The wood hit his spine with a sickening crack.

“O-one!” 

No praise, no response. Another hit, this time to his lower back. 

“Two!” 

The hits stung, but everything was turning far away and fuzzy. The room was burning hot despite no heat, the floor under him turning his skin red. 

The pain started to blur together into one constant feeling. His voice started to fail him, body going pathetically limp. He felt helpless and afraid, all fight draining out of him, replaced with delusional yearning. 

He stopped counting at 14, eyes drooping and head spinning. Wilbur sighed, pulling the man by his hair. “I’m starting over.” 

Chemically spurred desperation seeped through Schlatt’s rational thoughts. “Wilbur,” he shamelessly moaned, “please, _please_. I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all. Just... just stop, please, please just _stop.”_

This gave Wilbur pause. He released his grip on the brown locks, blinking in surprise. Schlatt sounded so vulnerable, so genuine. 

But he couldn’t let his guard down. This was just a trick, a way to lull him into a false sense of security. It wasn’t going to work. If he trusted Schlatt, he would just escape. 

Wilbur had no choice. 

He raised the paddle, landing another rough hit. Schlatt lurched forward, tears in his eyes. 

“ _One_ ,” he choked out, genuine desperation in his voice. 

The candle flame danced as pained screams filled the room. By the time Wilbur got to thirty, Schlatt was in shambles, tears running down his face, body aching and begging for a break. Every thing stung, the blood pooling around his jerking legs. 

The wood was set aside, a hand suddenly on Schaltt’s arm, turning him on his bruised and bleeding back. Wilbur had traded the wood for the small knife, an unreadable expression staring down. 

“Will, Will, p-please, not again, please, stop, _don’t_ -“ 

The cold metal cut into his chest, slicing all the way across, deep enough to cut into muscle. Wilbur smiled down. Schlatt looked more beautiful than he thought was possible. His eyes were half closed, tears still falling out of them, mouth open in a weak scream. Blood was pouring out of his nose, matching well with the copious amounts coming the cuts. The anger in Wilbur was long gone, replaced with unyielding adoration. 

“W-Will, please, I’ll never do it again, I would never try to leave, I promise. Would be stupid. You’re p-perfect, I would never leave, I would never ever ever.” Schlatt didn’t understand himself, words mashing together, slurring into near obscurity. 

A burning hot hand trailed across his bleeding chest, pulling the cut open slightly, blood coming out faster. “I know, baby boy. I know you’ve learned your lesson. But... I have to make sure it sticks, yeah? I’m sure you can understand.” 

Wilbur stood, grabbing the rope to tie his hands back. Schlatt felt his stomach drop. What else could he possibly do to him? 

The candle was blown out, all light vanishing. 

“Don’t worry. You get used to the dark.” 

The door closed, once again leaving the delirious man completely and utterly alone. He cried out, trying to get closer to the door. “No! No! Please, please, come back! You can beat me again, I won’t mess up this time! I’ll hold still, I’ll be good, I promise! Wilbur!” 

The silence hurt worse than anything could ever hurt him physically. He leaned his forehead against the door, sobs wracking his body. 

Schlatt had never believed in God, but in that moment, he prayed to any higher power that would listen to him. Prayed for it to end, for the blood loss to be too much, for his pathetic body to finally shut down. 

When no response came, he took matters into his own hands. 

He leaned back and slammed his head against the door, the ache painful at first, becoming a comfort as he continued. 

With all the force left in him, he leaned as far back as he could, ramming his forehead into hard wood. The world spun, his mouth suddenly tasting metallic. He collapsed, falling to the side as his body begged him to give in. He felt too weak to move, head lolling against the floor as blood poured from his forehead. 

He felt strangely peaceful, a smile on his face as he curled up into himself. He let out a soft hum into the floor. 

Schlatt felt himself start to sink, the darkness wrapping around him in a tight embrace. 

He let himself slip away with no fight, the cold ground welcoming him with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im actually extremely unhappy with how i wrote this but hhhfk... i also have a terrible migraine and am absolutely sick rn feeing like slipping into hell
> 
> schlatt kin moment <3
> 
> is he dead? Maybe! is he actually dead? you’ll just have to see!
> 
> ya n e way feeling burnt out as hell so it’ll probably be a while before the next chapter is posted, i’m having a terrible relapse rn and won’t be as active unfortunately


	6. get out, get gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was so loud. Too loud, too bright, despite it being nearly pitch black. 
> 
> He couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. It didn’t feel like either. He was somewhere in between, a painful middle. 
> 
> The warm embrace around him grew cold. The darkness no longer kept him warm, like it had grown tired of his presence. He begged it to stay. He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t take it anymore. The memories were fuzzy, but he remembered just how much they hurt. He remembered the sting, the way a hand coiled around his throat, not even recognizing his own screams. 
> 
> Schlatt opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always tw for abuse and violence. it’s a lot less graphic in this chapter tho!
> 
> we are nearing the END boys!! :’) thank u so much for reading!!!

Everything was so loud. Too loud, too bright—despite it being nearly pitch black. 

He couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. It didn’t feel quite like either. He was somewhere in between, a painful middle. 

The warm embrace around him grew cold. The darkness no longer kept him warm, like it had grown tired of his presence. He begged it to stay. He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t take it anymore. The memories were fuzzy, but he remembered just how much they hurt. He remembered the sting, the way a hand coiled around his throat, not even recognizing his own screams. 

Schlatt opened his eyes. He was met with even more black. Something wet and cold was under him, a large puddle of liquid. As his consciousness returned, it hit him. Oh. 

He was still here. 

Panic surged through him. That wasn’t possible. He should have been back at his house, not here. Not in this fucking prison cell. What happened? How did he fuck this up? He wasted a life for _this_? 

Schlatt couldn’t believe it. He refused to. Denial made it easier to deal with.

He felt strangely strong, his body still aching and weak, but some energy returned to him. Unfortunately, he was still bound, and it was far too dark for him to do any real exploration of the room. 

A desperate thought bounced around his head. 

_You only have two more left._

He felt his chest become heavy. 

All he would have to do... was end it twice. Then he would be done. He would  be _free_. Where he would go, Schlatt had no idea. But he didn’t care—because he would be _free_. 

He longs for detachment. Longs to feel the numbness that only Wilbur caused, wether it be with his strange drugs or his rough hands. Schlatt felt split in two, his brain tearing itself apart. 

He feels himself begin to float.

Why does he still want Wilbur? Why—after all this—does he need him? 

Swallowing bile, he takes a shaky glance across his chest, trying to get a feel for his injury in the darkness. It looked... healed? Like a week old wound, already scarring up and repairing itself. 

_Death is weird_ , he decided. 

Attempting to get a grip on his surroundings, he ran his hand across the floor, searching for anything that could be of use. A strange sensation made him recoil his hand, making a face. God, he hated the feeling of wax. 

Awesome. Yeah, great, an unlit candle. That’ll help him escape for sure.

After searching for however long, he exhaled, realizing it was pointless. Wilbur would have removed anything he could have used, anyway. 

Speaking of... 

Schlatt pressed his ear to the door, shutting his eyes to focus. The house was silent, no signs of life. Did that mean Wilbur had left? 

The thought excited half of Schlatt. That meant he had the best chance of escape. If only he wasn’t fucking tied up. Cursing the world, he leaned back, the aching of what might have been broken bones very present. The other half begged to just lay down, to sleep and wait for Wilbur to return. If he was good enough, Wilbur would let him out, he was sure of it. 

He once again found himself wondering how long had he been in here. How long was he dead? Surely it hadn’t been that long. Respawning was generally fast, as far as he knew. 

He struggled to grasp a coherent though, mind racing. 

It hit him like a ton of bricks. Something he hadn’t even considered. 

Did anyone notice that he was gone?

Quackity briefly crossed his mind. He doubted Quackity would give a shit. Probably just took the presidency and moved on with his life. 

Tubbo? 

Laughable.

Why would he ever miss him after how he treated him? 

Running through a very short list, it sank in. 

No one would care. He could be down here for the rest of his miserable life—and no one would care enough to look for him. 

He smiled. Smiled his best presidential smile, teeth bared and lips cracking from the pressure. 

He wondered how hard it would be to break his own neck. It seemed easy enough. If he fell just hard enough... 

It would only take two times. He could probably finish before Wilbur even came back. 

He thought about how Wilbur would react, finding his lifeless body. If he was honest; he couldn’t imagine. How Wilbur would react to anything was unknown to him. It was like spinning a wheel—if half of the options were ‘pain and suffering’. 

A distant creek echoed through the building. Oh. Shit. Wilbur was back. 

Schlatt’s heart raced. He could have sworn he felt blood dripping down his throat, matching with the cold sweat he’d broken into. 

Minutes passed, each second filling him with more dread than he thought he could handle. The door creaked open, a small amount of light shone in, hurting his eyes. 

Wilbur looked... off. His entire outfit was disheveled, hair falling in his eyes. There was a cut on his neck, blood dripping onto his sweater. Schlatt just stared up—he didn’t dare ask. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet, sweetheart. Been good, yeah?” The tone was sincere, dripping with sickly sweet intent. 

Schlatt nodded slowly, knowing his best bet was to just obey and agree. 

“It’s been long enough. I think you’ve learned your lesson, don’t you?” 

After a sharp exhale, Schlatt composed himself. Wilbur had bent down in front of him, a hand resting on the tied up man’s shoulder. 

“I-I do. I’ll... I’ll never do it again, Wil. I promise.” God, he was a bad liar. 

Wilbur’s smile faltered. 

“Right.” 

The hand was pulling him up by his shoulder, leading him out of the dark room into the ‘living room’, a room with one dark couch and a white rug. Schlatt was pinned against the wall, hungry lips pressing into his chapped ones. 

With his sanity slightly back, he felt disgusted. Every touch violated him, every breath on his neck felt like a punch to the gut. 

Satisfied, Wilbur pulled away, leading the still bound Schlatt to the couch, sitting him down. “I’m sorry it took so long, baby. Things got... complicated.” He opened his mouth as if about to launch into an explanation, but paused, eyes lighting up. “Oh! Right! You must need food. You needed some last time, I remember. This time you probably need more, since it was so long.” 

Schlatt didn’t want to ask. He really, really didn’t. But he had to know. 

“It’s... okay. How... how long was it, Wil? I-it’s hard to tell in the dark, y’know.” His words felt foreign, like he was reading a bad script. 

“Just about a week, I suppose. A little less. Five days?” 

Schlatt just stared ahead. That couldn’t be fuckin’ possible. There was no way he was dead for _that_ long. Absolutely not—absolutely not, no way. 

“You look upset,” Wilbur noted like it was some keen observation, “tell you... tell you what. I’ll make you some food, get you a shower and some new clothes. That’ll make you feel better, yeah? You took your punishment so well. Didn’t even make a sound, just waited on me like a good boy. You deserve it.”

As he spoke, he began to untie Schlatt. Adrenaline raced through him. He had to act fast, before he got drugged or too drunk on blood loss to think straight. 

Wilbur stood, pressing a kiss to the smaller man’s forehead, a hand grazing over his now sticking out collarbones. Schlatt was sure he looked pathetic, but he tried to push the thought away. Appearance doesn’t matter when you’re in an underground building with a psychopath, he reminded himself. 

Turning to watch Wilbur prepare the ‘food’, he examined his surroundings. The counter was almost entirely empty, save for a few kitchen utensils. None of them were particularly useful for him. No knives or anything, so no luck there. 

Something caught his eye. Wilbur’s sword. It was slightly unsheathed, _just_ enough where someone could grab it without him noticing. 

Blood rushed to his head. He felt lightheaded, pulse quickening. He had to try. This was the best chance he had.

And, well; if he failed, he could always turn the sword back on himself. 

No going back. 

He stood, trying to walk as casually over as he could. Wilbur turned for a moment, then turned back to the plate, thinking nothing of it. 

Schlatt’s shaky hand slid to the sword. He wrapped his fingers around it as lightly as he could, slowly, _slowly_ pulling it back. 

As soon as it was in his grasp, he ripped it all the way back, barely able to hold the weight up in his hands. Wilbur jumped, the sound of metal scraping against metal alerting him. 

“Schlatt-?” Before he could turn around, cold metal slammed into his head, the blunt end of the weapon turning his vision black. Wilbur groaned, knees buckling under him. A second hit sent him to the all the way to the floor. 

Wilbur felt his brain short circuit. The situation made no sense to him, confusion warping his thoughts. A third hit. A fourth. 

Schlatt watched as Wilbur stilled, head falling limp against the cold floor. 

Holy fuck. It worked. It fucking worked. 

Frantic hands ran through Wilbur’s pockets, searching for a key. Fingers wrapped around the cold metal they found, snatching it out and making a beeline for the door. He paused at the first door, realizing with embarrassment that he was straight up naked. Shame fought for dominance over sheer terror in his head, the latter losing. He ran back to the room he was previously trapped in, snatching up the bloody sweater and dirt covered pants, throwing them on faster than he thought was physically possible for a human. 

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he shoved the key in, turning it and pushing the door open so quick he fell right on his face. 

Fresh air filled his lungs. The sound of distant birds rang through his ears. 

He was fucking _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe comments and kudos r so appreciated <3 i hope u enjoyed and i hope u have a great day!!


	7. blood and bile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t run fast enough. His chest burned, lungs ablaze and throat closing in on itself. 
> 
> The situation didn’t sink in until he was nearly out of Pogtopia territory.
> 
> It hit him square in the chest. 
> 
> Everything rushed back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY some comfort for all our poor souls 
> 
> only real warnings for this chapter is for aftermath of torture/ptsd episodes

He couldn’t run fast enough. His chest burned, lungs ablaze and throat closing in on itself. 

The situation didn’t sink in until he was nearly out of Pogtopia territory.

It hit him square in the chest. 

Everything came rushing back. 

Hot hands, a cold knife, burning hands running down his exposed body, blood pouring out, screams, hungry hands, darkness, hands, hands, hands all over him, _why won’t they stop fucking touching him, let go, let go, GET OFF—_

Vomit mixed with the grass in front of him. He was keeled over, tears running down his face. It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

Wilbur had started a fire in him he couldn’t put out. It burnt him from the inside out; a blazing inferno. 

Blinking blearily, he tried to push himself up with shaky hands. There was a distant crack. Two hushed voices steadily approached him. Fear rose in him as he tried to keep himself upright. He should have ran farther, _why didn’t he keep running?_

Tommy and Tubbo stared at the figure before them. Tommy took rushed steps, ignoring the way the man flinched at the sudden movement. 

“Schlatt? Holy fuck, where have you been? What the fuck happened to you?” Tommy sounded incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Tubbo was silent. He stood behind Tommy,looking Schlatt up and down with an unreadable expression. Schlatt looked... terrible. He was so small—the blood covered sweater hung off his pathetic frame. Dark eye bags clung to sunken in eyes. His stance reminded Tubbo of a wild animal, hands gripping a tree like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

Schlatt couldn’t summon the words. How could he possibly explain? What could he say to even vaguely make them understand? 

His body decided it would be a good time to give out, knees buckling as more bile spilled out of him, directly in front of Tommy. A surprised yelp came from the boy, stepping back from the throw up. 

“Oh... fuck.” 

Schlatt couldn’t agree more. 

Broken eyes stared up at Tommy, a far away gaze. “Need to... need to leave. Need to hide—please. Anywhere. Can’t walk much further.” The adrenaline had worn off, replaced by unexplainable pain. His body was giving up on him, despite no new physical injuries. 

God, he wished it would be enough to make it stop. Enough to make his pathetic excuse of a heart fail. 

Small arms helped him up, his enemies offering more kindness than he had received in weeks. He knew that Tubbo was talking to him, but the words wouldn’t register. All he could think of was the warmth burning through his chest. Hands, heat, darkness. Wilbur, Wilbur, _Wilbur_. 

His eyes dropped, body becoming dangerously close to collapsing for a third time. He tried to make it easier on the kids, tried to pull his own weight, stepping in time with them. 

But he couldn’t escape the dread in his stomach. He felt another wave of nausea hit him, stomach threatening to spill again. He had absolutely nothing left in him to get rid of. No food, no water. All that came out anymore was clear liquid and blood. Still, it came, spilling on his feet this time. Tommy scrunched up his face, looking away in a mixture of disgust and pity. Tubbo pat Schlatt’s back awkwardly, a brave attempt to soothe him. 

Yeah, it didn’t quite work. 

The rest of the trek was uneventful. 

They arrived at a building Schlatt didn’t recognize. Well, at least this was one above ground. 

Tommy explained that it was a base, a place where they would go to keep safe. Tubbo assured him that he would be welcome here; that it was a middle ground for everyone, no fighting allowed. Schlatt didn’t argue. 

Inside, a tall, pink haired man was stood expectantly. Schlatt locked eyes with him. Blood ran down his face, a fresh wound in his stomach. His gaze was judgmental and cold, animalistic face showing no sympathy. 

“Schlatt.” 

A pause. 

“Techno...?”

Tommy and Tubbo looked away, tension filling the atmosphere. 

“I...” The pig-man swallowed like it hurt. “I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot to discuss.” 

If it was possible, his brain short circuited even more. Techno was expecting him...?

Schlatt stared blankly ahead for a moment. 

“O...okay.” 

The arms released him, trusting him to stand on his own. Wobbling, Schlatt took cautious steps towards Techno, curiosity trumping a need to rest. Techno gestured for him to follow, taking him into a room off of the main area, out of earshot from the two nosy boys. 

They met eyes again, sharing a look of understanding. Techno hung his head, opening his mouth to speak before closing it. Schlatt let out a strained chuckle. 

“What happened to you, huh? Who in the hell caused this kind of damage to the almighty Technoblade?”

“You know who.” 

Schlatt’s face fell. All humor left him. 

Words failed.

The pig-man straightened his back, standing up to full height. “I don’t entirely understand the situation,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “but I know enough. I don’t know how you escaped, but he’ll find you. Your clock is ticking.” 

Reassuring as always. 

“What do I do?” His voice wasn’t his own. It couldn’t be. Shaky, pathetic and hoarse was the opposite of how he should sound. 

“You’re safe here, for now. He won’t know to look here. I want you to tell me what’s going on. Wilbur wasn’t exactly clear.” 

Schlatt felt the pit in his stomach open even wider. His vision became spotty. 

“I... I’ve been...” He tried to summon the words. 

“He’s... he’s had me for... I don’t even know how long. However long I was gone. I... I don’t understand... why this even happened in the first place.” 

Techno nodded slowly, hand on his sword by instinct. “What has he been doing to you? Do you need any medical attention?” 

“I... yeah, I probably do.” 

“Okay. What is wrong with you?” 

His hands clenched. He tried, in vain, to speak, voice breaking and going silent. 

“You have to tell me so I can help. I can get any medical supplies you require, but I need to know what happened.” 

He shook with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed. Hands. All over him. Wilbur. Wilbur all over him. Touching him, holding him down, stroking him, hitting him, kissing him, inside him, touching, holding, hitting, make it stop _make it stop make it stop-_

The floor was suddenly a lot closer. His vision was blurred with tears, falling without pause. Techno placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight enough to hurt. 

“Schlatt?” He sounded so far away. “Schlatt, talk to me.” 

He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Everything in him was breaking into pieces, tearing itself apart. He wished Techno would use his strength to beat the sense out of him. He longed for the ache of bruises, yearned for the pain of cuts. That was all he could understand, all he could make sense of. 

Violence is the only universal language, after all. 

Techno shook him, but Schlatt’s eyes remained unwilling to move from their spot on the floor. 

Sobs wracked his body as he rocked back and forth, wrapping his arms around himself. The hands wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t let him be. They slinked around his waist, pulling him in, running up and down his bloody torso. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

Distantly, he heard two people enter the room, voices exchanging loud shouts, panicked and confused. 

It didn’t matter to him. He knew he should be embarrassed, acting like such a baby in front of his enemies, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Punches landed on anywhere he could reach, hitting himself as hard as he could manage. Strong hands tried to pry him away, but he fought back with all his might; kicking and screaming, throwing his body into the floor just to feel the sharp ache course through him. 

He was suddenly restrained, arms pulled behind his back, the feeling painfully familiar. Tears dripped onto the floor as he let out bone chilling screams, nonsensical commands accompanying them. 

“Don’t—DON’T! Let me _GO_! S-stop, stop, let me g-go! Want it to stop! Please, _fuck_ , make it _stop_!” 

Tubbo looked on in horror at his former boss. He had never seen anything like this before. He had no idea a person could seem so broken. 

Something in him shattered at the mere sight. Bending down, he placed himself in front of Schaltt. Small, soft arms wrapped around the jerking body. 

There was a moment of calm. The screaming stopped, the fighting paused. 

Schlatt felt his eyes unfocus. The gentle hands held onto his sweater tight. 

He had never felt something like this before. There was no hidden intent, no alternative motive. Just an embrace. 

His body went limp against the hold. Small, soft words pierced through his thoughts. 

“It’s okay... don’t cry, Schlatt. You’re safe. There’s no reason to be sad, we’re here.” 

The pure innocence in the words was too much for him. The sobs continued, but not in the same way as before. 

He wished Tubbo was right. He wanted that more than anything. 

“No, no, hey, don’t cry again! It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” 

Techno had long since released his hold on Schlatt, but there was no more struggle. Schlatt was perfectly still... well, except how his body shuddered and shook violently. Techno had no idea what his brother had done, and part of him never wanted to know. 

It was painful to even imagine. When he ran into Wilbur days ago, he thought it was odd. The way he danced around the questions, avoiding telling him anything. 

Then, two days ago, they met again. This time, the topic of Schlatt came up. Techno didn’t miss the way his brother’s body tensed at the mention of him. It didn’t sit right with him. 

Earlier that day, he had his final run in. Wilbur was almost unrecognizable. The crazed look in his eyes was not his brother. A heated argument later, they both escaped, bleeding and worked up. Techno got it the worst, not expecting the first attack at all. It reminded him of how they used to spar as kids—Wilbur would always cheat and distract Techno to get the upper hand. 

Techno lingered on the memory, allowing just a bit of nostalgia to creep in. 

He missed his brother. 

Tubbo finally pulled away from Schlatt, his own eyes swimming with emotion. He was woefully unequipped to handle a situation like this. How could he possibly make this better? 

Tommy rocked back and forth on his feet, mind racing with confusing thoughts. Wilbur... Wilbur had done this. Wilbur caused this. 

How long until he found them? 


	8. safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy paced the room. Tubbo was silent, watching his best friend anxiously wring his hands together. 
> 
> “I don’t... understand, Tubbo,” he finally spoke, still unable to hold still, “why he would do this? I mean, what did he even do? Surely it couldn’t be that bad.”
> 
> Flashes of tears and blood shot through Tubbo’s head, Schlatt sobbing and desperately clawing at his own skin. 
> 
> “Yeah... yeah, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short and kinda rushed but i’m just so excited to write more Pain 
> 
> tw for ptsd episodes again

Tommy paced the room. Tubbo was silent, watching his best friend anxiously wring his hands together. 

“I don’t... understand, Tubbo,” he finally spoke, still unable to hold still, “why he would do this? I mean, what did he even do? Surely it couldn’t be that bad.”

Flashes of tears and blood shot through Tubbo’s head, Schlatt sobbing and desperately clawing at his own skin. 

“Yeah... yeah, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” 

Tommy frowned at the unconvincing answer. “Wilbur isn’t a bad guy. He wouldn’t... do anything bad. He wouldn’t.” 

After a long silence, Tubbo nodded slowly. “I wonder if Techno is almost done. Maybe-maybe the injuries weren’t bad.” 

The taller boy nodded back, glancing to the closed door. Techno had taken Schlatt back nearly an hour ago into their make-shift medbay. 

“I’ll go check.” 

“Wait, Tommy-“ 

He ignored Tubbo, stomping towards the door and swinging it open with no warning. 

Schlatt was laid on a bed, Techno bent over him with blood on his hands. The abrupt entry caused their whispers to pause, turning to look at the intrusion. Techno frowned at the blonde. 

“Tommy, I told you to wait.” 

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Got bored. Besides, Tubbo was worried.”

The smaller man appeared behind him, crossing his arms. “lt wasn’t me who was worried...” 

They shared a look. 

Schlatt couldn’t bear to look at the boys. He just stared up at the ceiling, dried tear streaks down his face. Techno had been cleaning and stitching his various wounds, more and more confessions spilling out of Schlatt as he did. He had explained nearly everything he could; every story causing Techno’s illusion of calm to grow smaller. 

“You two can just leave, then. You’re not in any danger anyway. Just go back to Manburg or something. Hide out with Nikki, I don’t care.” 

Tubbo felt his heart ache. He didn’t want to leave Schlatt... he still seemed so sad. But how could he help, anyway? 

Tommy let out a groan, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Bye.” He swallowed his bitterness at being rejected, turning around and striding towards the exit. Tubbo lingered a second longer, teary eyes on Schlatt as he slowly backed away to join Tommy.

When they were alone, Schlatt let out a forced laugh. 

“Kids, huh? Nosy fuckers.” 

Techno didn’t laugh back. He just nodded, wiping his hands off on a clean towel. 

“Schlatt... I...” He paused, a look of concentration on his face. 

“I can’t imagine how you feel. And I know you haven’t told me everything, and you don’t have to. I... have a hard time understanding the situation, understanding why Wilbur would... do this. But, my feelings on that aren’t important here. What’s important is putting a stop to it, putting a stop to _him_.” The way he spoke left no room for argument. 

Schlatt shifted his gaze to Techno’s emotionless face. God, he was hard to read. He couldn’t even tell if he was being genuine anymore. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I, uh... I don’t... understand either. I... don’t even understand how I feel about it. I can’t make sense of it. It feels... fake.”

Techno hummed lowly, standing up. “Right. Well, you’ll stay here for a while. It’s the safest place to hide out for now. If we’re lucky, he won’t go looking for a few hours.” 

The mere thought of Wilbur looking for him sent a wave of terror through him. The terror stirred into panic, his throat feeling tight. He nodded, unable to form a verbal agreement, face suddenly feeling way too hot. 

Techno didn’t seem to notice the rising fear, turning around as his cape trailed behind him, walking towards the door. “I’ll be back with food and water.” 

Schlatt didn’t even bother to nod, painful scenarios flashing in his mind as he gripped the white sheets underneath him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why could he still feel Wilbur all over him? 

The world seemed to fade in and out around him, his own body unrecognizable to himself. Techno hadn’t even left the building, but he felt so, so alone. His vision was blurred with his own tears. He bitterly wondered how many times he was going to cry in one day. It had already been, what, ten times now? Did it count if there wasn’t even a minute in between? 

He heard Techno returning, loud footsteps getting closer. In Schlatt’s spotty vision, it dawned on him how much Wilbur and Techno really looked alike. Oh, god. His eyes. 

Techno had _his_ eyes. 

Schlatt felt himself instinctively back away from Techno, hitting the wall. 

“Stop—don’t, don’t come closer—“

Memories and reality blurred into one. He couldn’t even tell if it was Wilbur or Techno anymore. A confused voice asked him what was wrong, but it kept cutting out into a painfully familiar one like a spotty radio station. 

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. He wanted this to stop, it _had_ to fucking stop— he couldn’t fucking take it. 

His hands flew to cover his eyes. If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t happening, it just _wasn’t_ happening. 

Techno stared ahead. He had no idea how to help, emotions weren’t exactly his strong suit. Shit. Every time he would go through something like this, he would just shut it out, ignoring the distant burning of long faded scars. Sometimes, when they were younger, Wilbur would... Wilbur would comfort him. He would sit by his sobbing brother, singing him his latest song in a calming voice, small hands wrapped around him. 

Techno felt sick. 

His world was upside down. His own brother, fucking _Wilbur_ of all people, did this to Schlatt. He couldn’t believe the things Schlatt told him. There was no way Wil would do that. It was impossible.

Of course, it didn’t matter if he accepted it or not. What happened happened, his own pathetic feelings didn’t change a thing. 

Squatting down, Techno put a gentle hand on Schlatt’s shoulder. Schlatt flinched in response, body spasming so hard it looked painful. Yeesh, he was bad at this whole comfort thing. 

“Schlatt... hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Schlatt jerked backwards, trying to crawl as far away from him as possible, breath hitching at the familiar words. 

“Liar,” a breaking voice forced out, “you’re lying. Don’t lie to me. You’re—you always hurt me.” 

Techno didn’t know what to say, what to do. Fuck, he wished Tubbo was still here. That seemed to help Schlatt before. 

“I... I’m not lying, Schlatt. I’m not Wilbur. I’m Techno. You’re safe now.” His words came out far too emotionless. He meant it, he really did—his execution was just, uh, poor. 

Schlatt opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the just barely audible shut of a door. Techno felt his pulse quicken. He shot up, turning around so fast he gave himself whiplash.

He locked eyes with his brother. 

“Hey, Techno. Glad to see you’re still alive. Thought I might have cut too deep last time.” 

The world shook under their feet.

Techno felt a primal instinct in him leak into his rational thoughts. 

“No worries, Wilbur. You’re not gonna be alive long enough to make that mistake twice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for READING as alwayssss comments and kudos are so so appreciated 
> 
> uh oh big dicks back in town


	9. hand in hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room was still. 
> 
> Techno held his breath, his sword already in his hand. He wanted Wilbur to make the first move. He needed to gauge the situation better, rushing in would just get him killed. 
> 
> “Techno... this really isn’t your business, you know. You could just step aside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT BOYS ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!!!
> 
> as always tw for abuse and ptsd and all that

The room was still. 

Techno held his breath, his sword in his clenched hand. He wanted Wilbur to make the first move. He needed to gauge the situation better, rushing in would just get him killed. 

“Techno... this really isn’t your business, you know. You could just step aside.” 

Fanged teeth poked out behind a snarl. 

Techno was honestly at a loss for words. How could he possibly make sense of the rage in his chest? This was _insane_. _Wilbur_ was insane.

“Just skip the talking.” 

Wilbur frowned at him, eyes dull. “You were never any fun, you know.” 

Techno held his ground. Sighing, he gave in slightly. 

“How did you find us?” 

Wilbur’s expression changed dramatically, a cheshire grin stretching across his face. “Oh, funny you should ask! Tommy and Tubbo told me, actually!” 

Techno felt his eyes go wide. Schlatt, who had been frozen in place, eyes stuck to Wilbur, made a strangled noise. _What the fuck?_

“What the hell did you do to them?” Techno’s voice wavered, the calmness in it faltering. 

“Oh, nothing bad. You see, after Schlatt left, I went out looking, of course—but I _certainly_ didn’t expect to see distracted boys walking on Pogtopia land. It... dawned on me that Schlatt must have had help to get as far as he did, and, well; Tommy has always been easy to convince. Tubbo, not so much, but... turns out he doesn’t like it when Tommy screams.” 

Schlatt didn’t know he could feel this much terror. Every word hurt him worse than the last. 

Techno was silent for a moment. “Tommy is your little brother, Wilbur. He’s our little brother.” 

“Oh, christ, Techno, I know that. Of course, he’s fine now! Now that Schlatt isn’t there, there was plenty of room for them both underground. I do hope the blood loss isn’t too much for him, though. It would be a shame for him to lose another life. I should mention, though... I  _ did  _ leave a few teensy explosives in there with them, which are set to go off in...” He stared down at his watch, rocking back and forth on his feet, “just about ten minutes now! Unless, of course, I deactivated them.” 

The words sent another wave of silence over the trio. Schlatt could swear his heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening. Holy fucking shit. Holy shit. No, no, no, _no no no no_ —

“So... Techno, I’ll remind you again,” Wilbur took a half step forward, eyebrows raised, “you could just step aside. Unless, of course, you _want_ them to go off. I have no problem taking Tubbo’s final life, after all.” 

What could he possibly say to that? 

All rational thoughts left him. His hands shook, sword swaying. 

With dread in his heart, he turned to meet eyes with Schlatt. Without speaking, he communicated the options.

Weak arms pushed up an even weaker body. Schlatt just stared back. He couldn’t even form the words. 

What he wanted was to grab onto Techno, to beg him to never let him go, to hold onto his cape and sob until he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

He didn’t want to go. 

_ Please, fuck. Don’t let me go back with him.  _

Schlatt stood, the cold ground under his feet. Wilbur wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on Techno. 

As Schaltt approached, he felt himself leave his own body. It was the only way he could escape. If he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t register it, he was okay. He was _okay._

When he was right by Wilbur, their gazes finally met. Wilbur... smiled at him. 

And it felt warm. It felt real. There was kindness in those brown eyes that bored into him. 

He hated it. So, so much. 

Techno hadn’t moved. Finally, he spoke.

“Wilbur. Deactivate it. Now.” 

The warm smile faded, head turning to look at his brother. “Right. Of course.” He pulled out what appeared to be some kind of homemade controller, just two small buttons, one red and one green. Wilbur pressed the red one, showing Techno as he did. 

“All done. Happy?” 

Techno couldn’t even begin to respond. _Happy_? 

“Where are they?” 

“By the dark oak forest in Pogtopia. Search behind the vines, you’ll find a door. Won’t be hard for you, I’m sure.” 

There was nothing else to say. Wilbur had snaked his hand onto Schlatt’s wrist, holding it tight. He started to back away, Schlatt dragged along with him. 

Techno and Schlatt shared one last desperate gaze. 

Schlatt didn’t know Techno could cry until then. 

As they exited, Wilbur smiled, slightly less warm this time.

“That went well, don’t you think? No blood, no mess.” 

Schlatt was barely even moving his feet, letting himself be dragged along by strong hands. 

Wilbur sighed a bit. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” 

“You almost killed them. They’re _children.”_

A small chuckle escaped the taller man, stilling once they were far enough away. He turned to face Schlatt, hand cupping his face.

“They were never in any danger, sweetheart.” 

A pause. 

“That’s not where I really put the bombs. They’re not for them.”

Wilbur leaned in, his mouth ghosting over Schlatt’s. 

“They’re for _us_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA THIS IS SO SHORT BUT FHE NEXT ONE IS GONNA BE LONG AS HELL LAST CHAPTER TIME


	10. finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy... holy shit. this is actually the last chapter. i have no words
> 
> as always, tw for abuse and violence, including ,,, death this time
> 
> for added effect, listen to last words of a shooting star by mitski

Schlatt was being dragged through the dark oak forest, fighting back with all his strength. He kicked, screamed, bit and thrashed against Wilbur as hard as he could, to absolutely no avail. Wilbur just hit back harder, held on tighter, now pulling him by his hair and throat. 

“Let me go! Get the _fuck_ off me!” At this point, he had probably said every line in the book. Wilbur had just started tuning him out, eyes focused ahead. 

It was hopeless. 

Schlatt was completely at his mercy. 

They arrived at a terrible, broken down shack in the dead center of the forest. Schlatt had never seen this part of the land before. He wished it had stayed that way. 

Wilbur took them inside, the door creaking open. It was completely empty, except for the bombs that littered the floor. 

As if reading his mind, Wilbur spoke up. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty more under the floor. More than enough to wipe this place off the map.” 

He felt more bile rise in his throat. He felt like a broken record, his body repeating the same painful symptoms over and over.

“I don’t understand, Wilbur.” The hold on Schlatt’s throat released, the now free hand joining his other hand in tangled hair. “ What happened to you? You were fine. You were literally fine.” 

Wilbur ran his fingers through brown locks, nails scratching against the scalp. His expression was hard to read in the unlit room. 

“You happened, Schlatt. _You_ happened.” 

Dark brown eyes stared up into uncaring ones. The grip on his hair tightened, pulling him up off the ground just enough for their noses to touch. “ _You did this to me.”_

Schlatt whimpered at the pain, but his face remained emotionless. 

He believed it. Of course it was him. It was always his fault. 

A sad smile spread across his face. The situation was so hopeless it was funny. 

Wilbur kept his hold. 

“And don’t think I forgot, love. I know you have two lives left. But, I have no problem taking down an extra.” 

Schlatt felt his blood run cold. That was the only hope he had left. 

Part of him was pleased. It would finally be over. He was actually going to die. 

This was it. 

Wilbur let go of his hair, his body hitting the floor with a muted thud. A sharp metal was pressed to his throat. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You know I would much rather drag this one out, but... we’re short on time.” 

Schlatt didn’t say a word. He just waited. Waited for the sting. His hands shook out of fear, but he felt nothing anymore. 

The blade dragged across his neck. Oh, _god_. He didn’t know it would feel like that. He sputtered, gasping for air as Wilbur grabbed back onto his hair, rough lips pressing against his as blood poured out. 

Schlatt gagged, the foreign feeling of blood in his own throat sending chills down his spine. He couldn’t breathe, fuck, he couldn’t breathe. Wilbur just covered his mouth with his own, no doubt feeling Schlatt’s blood drip into his own throat. Unbelievable amounts of blood spilled out of him, his vision going black quickly. 

He felt himself go limp, the taller man the only thing keeping him up. As the world vanished around him, the last thing he registered was Wilbur. 

When he opened his eyes, the previously black world turned white around him. There was no hand on his hair, no lips against his. Just endless white. 

He laughed, voice breaking. What a pathetic afterlife he had. 

As he stood, the white slowly morphed into something else. Green grass stretched in front of him, a small forest sprouting up around him. A small red flower was suddenly inches away from his foot. 

He heard distant sounds of life. It sounded like people talking. Curious, he walked over, the world expanding as he moved. He recognized three blurry figures, coming into focus as he grew nearer. 

Techno. Techno had Tommy and Tubbo, leading them through the forest. Tommy was bleeding, face obscured by red and shirt soaked through by it. Tubbo was holding onto Tommy, his small hands shaking with the effort. 

Schlatt couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. What this real? Was this actually happening, or was it just his brains last attempt at peace? Before he could figure it out, animalistic eyes met his. Techno was looking right at him. 

“I’m coming, Schlatt. _Please_ hold out a little longer.” 

He was speechless. How... how could Techno see him? This couldn’t be real. 

A tear trailed down his cheek without him noticing. He tried to speak, voice failing, mouth open in desperation. He wanted to tell Techno that it was okay, that he was okay—wanted to tell him to take the boys, keep them safe, that he didn’t need to worry about him. 

But he couldn’t. A pathetic sob shook his body, the world beginning to turn white again, collapsing into pieces as it closed around him. 

All too soon, rough hands were back on him; the dark shack coming back into focus. He was on his back, laying in his own blood. He came back into the world sobbing, visions of Techno swimming through his deluded thoughts. 

Wilbur ran a hand down the crying man’s chest, the other one cupping his face. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s about to be over. If I can’t keep you, then _they_ can’t. They’ll never leave us alone. Not here.” 

Schlatt shook his head weakly, Wilbur’s face obscured by tears. “No,” he choked out, voice ruined by sobs, “please. Please, Wilbur. I don’t want to go.” 

The atmosphere fell silent for a moment. Wilbur’s hands stilled. 

“You won’t go alone.” 

The hand moved from his chest into a pocket, pulling out the familiar controller. 

Wilbur moved himself, adjusting so that he was sitting beside Schlatt, not over him. A strong hand helped the shorter man up so that they were eye to eye. 

Arms wrapped around his abused body, holding him tight. There was no point in fighting back anymore. Schlatt melted into the hold, burying his head into the warmth. He held him back as tight as he could, soaking the shirt in tears and blood. 

Wilbur pressed a kiss into his jaw, tracing patterns into his back. 

They sat like that for what could have been years.

Techno. Tommy. Tubbo. Quackity. Nikki. 

He saw them all when he shut his eyes. 

He would never see them again. 

There was a click, a button pressed. 

Schlatt held his breath, digging his hands into Wilbur. 

“Goodbye.” 

It was over.

Techno found nothing but a crater, the trees and land blown up into nothing. The explosion had rocked the entire country. 

Techno and Tommy didn’t speak to anyone for weeks after.

It would be months before he admitted it to himself, his hands shaking and heart threatening to stop at the mere thought. 

They were gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t thank you all enough for the support i’ve received on this. this is the first time i’ve ever wrote an actual story, the first time i ever wrote a fanfic for that matter. i am both heartbroken and so happy. the quality may be terrible but damn if i haven’t put time into this hfksjjd
> 
> please stick around for more because i have so so many more stories planned that i can’t wait to share with you guys 
> 
> im prepared to be bullied for ending it like this


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